


Perilous Way

by Omi_Smith



Series: Pwnyta's Peeps [3]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Implied Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26959486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omi_Smith/pseuds/Omi_Smith
Summary: The story of how Zippo becomes the leader of team RED and their journey to become champions of the Kanto region.
Relationships: Team RED & Boat Denvers | Fearow, Team RED & Emanuel Costa | Raticate, Team RED & Esi “Sickle” Brant | Scyther, Team RED & Lee Ardal | Hitmonlee, Team RED & Lieutenant Sparky Driscoll | Raichu, Team RED & Zippo Saraf | Charizard, Zippo Saraf | Charizard & Kreetan Stillwaters | Blastoise
Series: Pwnyta's Peeps [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1459720





	Perilous Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pwnyta](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Pwnyta).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sickle is on the last shift of the night watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: 2016. No beta.
> 
> This is actually about chapter 13 of this story, but I'll keep it here until I reach that point.

He cannot recall the last time he’s felt such a powerful demand from within himself. He cannot understand why he’s falsifying his reports nor why his targets yet live.

Not just live. Progressing. _Flourishing._

He doesn’t understand the warm glow within his rib–cage such a train of thought elicits.

Nor does he understand the murderous wrath building with increasing pressure, increasing hostility, and writhing with demands for release, for action.

He understands the notion. But the _reason_ eludes him.

They all sleep now. The Charmeleon Zippo at the heart, radiating enough warmth and light to render an actual campfire moot–point. The others ring him closely and sleep deeply. Such is the trust and safety they have in one another.

_In him._

It is strange how Saraf’s fire can warm him at this distance. He crouches in the shadows, high in the branches of the trees.

He _shouldn’t_ be feeling the warmth at this distance.

Rustling, out of sync with the wind. _Ah. There_ is the chill, engulfing him within the instant. He fondles his blades, eyes cleaving the shadows as easily as he can cleave flesh. But still, there is heat, in his gut and burning viciously, in his blood as liquid fire. He glides from tree to tree, wings spread but not flapping. Silent.

There, below. He recognizes him. Another lackey from _that man._

That man should have invested in a higher level assassin.

The evidence is difficult to dispose of. He finds himself unwilling to stray far from the camp. A compromise, then.

He scatters the pieces in the bog.

Returning to his post, he surveys his targets while cleaning his blades. They remain undisturbed. His watch is uneventful from then until dawn when his precisely specialized sentry stupor is disturbed by a voice bright with a brighter grin.

“Hey, Sickle! What do you want for breakfast?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All in all, a quiet moment that reflects the first noticable point where Sickle's priorities start to change.


End file.
